What Price Brotherhood?
by Lieuten Keen
Summary: Finale Fix. How can Archer live without Trip? Is there anyone who can help him? COMPLETE now with bonus chapter 5
1. Chapter 1

The Price of Brotherhood

By: Lieuten Keen

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I just needed to fix the finale.

Chapter 1

This was the moment he'd been working for his entire life. Nothing could go wrong now.

Stepping out into the bright lights, the crowd caught sight of him immediately and rose to their feet in thunderous applause. Anybody who was anybody was in that room right now. The Andorian Guard, the Vulcan Council, the Tellarite Ambassadors and half of Starfleet stood and clapped their hands together at the sight of him. There were Coridans sitting in the back, still unsure if they would be part of the treaty, and a small delegation of Xindi sitting in the corner. They were all here to honor an historical treaty promoting peace in this section of space.

Captain Archer stood for a moment at the top of the ramp, having just left the greenroom. The lights were too bright and the noise was deafening. He could feel his chest pounding in time to the rhythm of the room. His head swam around with the commotion. There was the distinct possibility that he was merely a passenger inside his own body and someone else was in command of his actions, as his body moved forward of its own volition, forcing one foot in front of the other, ignorant and uncaring of the voice that screamed inside his head. The screaming was the sound of a pain so deep that it would never be heard by the human ear, only felt by the broken human heart.

This was all wrong.

He shouldn't have hugged her.

Not too long after Henry Archer died, Trip had dragged Jon home to meet his family at Christmastime. He dragged his friend all the way to Florida to meet the Tucker clan. They were loud and gregarious. Archer sat numbly in their midst. Trip's younger sister, barely out of the schoolroom, presented her brother with the same bottle of cologne she'd been giving him since she was in the third grade. The scent was so atrocious that its odor could be smelled through the sealed stopper.

Trip wore it proudly, swearing that women loved the stuff. He grinned and insisted that it made him impossible to forget.

Commander T'Pol was wearing his cologne and the scent transferred to Archer's clothes when they hugged and now he carried the scent of his friend with him, around him like a tent, keeping him separated from the spectacle that he was currently taking part in.

The scent hovered around him, infecting his nostrils and making his head spin. Blackness crept into the edges of his vision. He'd not felt the loss of his friend quite so keenly as he did in this one moment, and no matter how he told himself to get a grip and keep it together, Jon was afraid that he was losing the battle.

He looked down at his hands, which shook uncontrollably. He looked up and realized that he was standing at the podium. Around him the noise subsided. This world and all worlds were waiting for his speech.

Clearing his throat, he made to speak but no sound came out. His chest heaved up and down, desperately trying to fill his lungs with air, but every breath was a struggle. Every compression of his chest hurt as though he'd been underwater too long.

A clear panel in front of him displayed the words he'd written, acknowledging the efforts and sacrifices made by everyone present in the endeavor to bring peace and brotherhood to the entire galaxy. His voice choked on the words, so ridiculous and meaningless now that Jon had lost his own brother. He tried to force the words out.

Uttering the appropriate salutations and greetings in a halting strangled voice to the long list of diplomats on hand, Jon felt a wave of nausea sweep over him and he swallowed hard to force the bile back. Sweat ran down his back but he couldn't stop the shaking. His voice faltered when he spoke of his father's dream to travel at warp speeds.

His father should be here.

Trip should be here.

So should Admiral Maxwell Forrest, the man who had taken Henry's place in a young man's life as best he could, to honor his late and lamented friend. Admiral Forrest died in an explosion on a foreign world, executed by those in power who refused to give it up and thought to demand peace by force.

Jon's hands clutched the podium harder even though he couldn't feel his fingers; they were so numb. He tried to get a grip on his ragged thoughts but his brain just wouldn't respond. He just kept tallying up a list of those lost to this peaceful effort as a tear finally slipped down his cheek.

Hoshi was kidnapped, tortured and suffered at the hands of a group that may yet become part of this treaty. Major Hayes died in the effort to rescue her. Ensign Cutler, who had a degree in exobiology and whose face crumpled up cutely when she smiled, would never smile again. She died in an explosion too, so far away from home, wishing most desperately for only the chance to see her loved ones again.

There was that crewmate from Engineering, who was just one more condolence letter that Archer couldn't bring himself to write. He'd passed that duty onto Trip, uncaring that he might still be suffering the loss of his sister. Trip's sister Elizabeth, whom Archer had briefly forgotten about at the time of the atrocity rendered on Earth, was the one who offered such horrendous cologne every Christmas. The Tuckers had suffered greatly for peace. They lost a daughter, a son, a granddaughter, and a Vulcan-in-law because humanity had insisted on a place in the intergalactic community that had not welcomed them, and had warned them away from their part in history. Archer himself was responsible for their presence here today, hoping when he made the offer that by their appearance he could replicate Trip's smile by the ties that bind. He wondered suddenly how he could have the audacity to interrupt their grief to make them hear a speech.

Xenophobes had tormented aliens on Earth. They created and killed Trip's daughter for their own meaningless reasons. Twelve million lives were lost to the Xindi weapon, a sanctuary was defiled, a colony called Paaragon was destroyed, and Trip was dead. Trip was still dead, in a careless moment that could have been avoided if Archer had reacted faster, if Shran had taken care of his own problems, if Security had been on the ball.

Trip had died for nothing. Everything was meaningless.

Jerked rudely out of his reverie, Archer looked up through the confusion of noise and lights around him to witness two familiar shadows on the balcony above. Staggering back from the pedestal, he tried to right his balance. His stomach rolled over and finally he dropped to his knees as his stomach emptied its contents onto the new red rug at Starfleet Headquarters.

The world spun around him in a kaleidoscope of color and light while the sound came dully through a long tunnel. Sounds were muffled but growing in volume to deafen his ears. Lights flashed overhead. He could see the colors trace through the air overhead. It was like looking at a carnival from under water or watching a firework without any sound, until finally the pain of existence was mercifully closed off by darkness.

* * *

He woke slowly, lying on a couch, covered with a dark blue blanket. His head felt like it was splitting apart and his mouth and throat were so dry they burned. Forcing his swollen eyes open, he found he was still alive, and the thought disappointed him somehow.

Somebody in the room became aware of his movements and came to his side. She was a pretty woman, dark blond hair swirled around her shoulders and green eyes looked at him solemnly. Dressed simply in well-worn jeans and a green tee shirt, she padded on bare feet to his side and sat comfortably next to him on the sofa.

"Drink this," she commanded gently, offering a small cup that emitted a tantalizing steam. Obediently he opened his mouth to accept the dark, bittersweet tea that caused the pain in his head to abate within moments.

"My name is Reese," she told him with a gentle smile. He noted an old scar that ran from her temple to her cheekbone, right next to her eye. "Do you know who you are?"

"I'm Jon," he answered simply, finding his throat closed off and tears threatening to fall again.

"Jon, what's the last thing you remember?" she asked, not surprised at his name. She put down the empty tea cup and offered him a glass of water, which he accepted listlessly.

"Conference," he answered shortly. "I was at a conference and Trip was dead." He wondered if it had all been a bad dream. Perhaps he'd just consumed a bad bit of beef, and his friend was waiting for him in the Ready Room with a couple of cold beers and a copy of the latest water polo match.

One eyebrow rose at his answer. He thought he might have amused her somehow, but he didn't know what was so funny. "For future reference," her eyes twinkled again, "You're aboard a scientific research vessel, called _Picard_." She said the name as though it was revered, but Jon didn't recognize the title at all. "It's named for a great starship captain," she explained, still seeming amused, although Archer didn't know what the joke was all about.

"Was he a good captain?" Archer questioned.

"Oh, yes!" she assured him softly. "The _Picard_ made me into a powerful woman!" Her grin was infectious.

"Stop giving yourself airs!" A voice that was oddly familiar floated over his head from behind; he couldn't see the speaker. "She's just a means to an end!"

"She's my whole world, and I'm in command of all that I see," Reese sniffed with a glare at the figure that Archer couldn't see. "Therefore, I'm a queen, and you owe me fealty."

"First, that's not going to happen, and second, we have company! Go put on some shoes!" That somewhat petulant voice tried to sound calm and reasonable. Reese glowered at the speaker, but left the sofa where she sat.

Archer had finally placed that voice. The headache returned as he closed his eyes.

"Daniels."


	2. Chapter 2

"Daniels," he whispered, the dread that filled his heart upon hearing from his former steward was more than he wanted to deal with at the moment.

"Hello, Captain." He was greeted by a slender man, with thinning dark blond hair and blue eyes that looked at him too intently. "I had not thought that we would meet again, but I'm afraid I have to trouble you once more."

"What is it this time?" Archer snapped. "What is it you think you can save by bringing me here? I don't want any part of any more of your wars!"

"I'm hoping that by bringing you here, we can save Earth," Daniels announced solemnly.

"My brother, the Drama Queen," Reese snorted snidely returning with a pair of heavy boots and a pair of socks in one hand. She sat on the floor to apply her footwear. "Give him a minute, he'll have you believing that 'All of Time' hangs in the balance, unless you climb to the top of the Empire State Building and hock up a loogie." When she spoke the words 'all of time' her voice raised in pitch in a decidedly snide fashion.

"Stay out of this, Reese!" Daniels snapped in frustration.

Around them a hollow boom shook the room they were seated in. Reese looked around thoughtfully. "Whatever you're going to tell him, hurry up! We're running out of time!" She surprised even herself by chuckling at her own joke, wandering off to pop the top on a bottle of beer.

Daniels looked back at Archer and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "We need to set the past to rights," he offered. "Something went wrong, I'm not sure where exactly, but..."

Reese cursed quietly. "You flubbed it," she told Archer shortly, handing him a dark brown bottle.

Jon flinched. Studying the two faces, so similar in features, Archer felt a little light-headed. He took a long swig from the bottle.

"Reese! It's my story! Let me tell it!" Daniels pouted. He frowned at the bottle the captain held, but he wasn't about to snatch it back. He refused the one his sibling offered him.

"I tell it better," she looked straight at Archer when she said that. "Are you feeling up to it? Because this is bad."

"I couldn't possible feel worse," he told her woodenly. He rather liked her blunt manner. He certainly preferred it to the overly sentimental and mysterious ways of his long-departed steward.

She snorted, possibly with humor. Daniels opened his mouth to object, but Reese held up a hand. "You handle the technical stuff; I'll give him the shorthand. She added under her breath, "Otherwise we'll be here all night." Jon couldn't help but grin grimly in acknowledgment.

Daniels rolled his eyes, but agreed. "Fine, but make it snappy." He sounded vexed.

"You were supposed to make a speech about peace, but you flubbed it. You started waxing maudlin about people that had died, and those you thought were probably responsible for their deaths. It was a long list and you ticked off all the dignitaries.

"Turns out there were some uninvited guests among the celebrants, including Klingons and an Andorian named Shran. You mentioned P'Jem and the Andorians started a fight with the Vulcans. You pitted the Xindi and Suliban against one another by talking about the people who died in the Delphic Expanse. Tellarites picked fights with Coridians. And Starfleet suddenly needed to defend themselves against everyone else."

The lights above his head that looked like carnival lights were the lights of phasers and disruptors. The noise that jerked him out of his speech had been gunplay. He remembered it now, but distantly, as though it happened a long time ago to someone else. As far as he knew it had only happened ten minutes ago.

"The Peace Conference degenerated into a bloodbath. You were shot in the leg as you tried to escape on the ramps, and Shran pulled you to safety. Daniels used a temporal gate and pulled you out of there. When the Andorians discovered that you knew of Shran's whereabouts, they left the hall. The fight spilled onto the landing pad. It extended into the orbit around Earth." She paused. "The war extended farther than that. It encompasses most of the Alpha Quadrant."

Archer couldn't help his stunned reaction. Pain glistened in his eyes.

Reese stared at Archer with compassion in her eyes. "My brother saw the temporal wave coming. He took you from your time and encased us here in a protective bubble. We are all that is left that remembers the way things should be. Outside, there is nothing but death and destruction."

"It's a temporal anomaly held in inter-dimensional flux," Daniels corrected her with irritation. "It's not a bubble."

"Whatever, Rubbermaid," was her only response to his interruption, referring to the black textured suit that her brother wore everywhere.

"We're safe inside the bubble," she told Archer, glaring pointedly at her sibling who exhaled loudly, "But the action outside is growing increasingly hostile. Not only are we continuously bombarded with fresh temporal waves, the residents are in the midst of a massive war. If they puncture the anomaly, we're all toasted." Another shipwide quake sent Reese over to scan a display panel for information.

"Fill him in, brother dear, and let's get this ship straightened out," she commanded gently. "We have to save 'all of time.'" As she said that last phrase, one that Daniels had used often in the past until Archer was sick of hearing it, her voice raised and she that same nasal whine in a certain indication that she'd heard her fill of the Time Wars as well.

"Captain," Daniels sat on the edge of the couch next to Archer. "We need to reset the timeline. We need to get you back to the moment on the stage where it all started to go wrong. You need to give the speech I remember you giving, the one that inspires hope to all who hear it. It's a historical speech. I can have a copy brought out of the database if you've forgotten it." Daniels sounded as eager for all this muck as he ever did, and Jon was tired of this whole mess.

"I can't go back," he told the future man faintly. "I can't give a speech about peace. I don't care if they live or die." His voice cracked. "Too many lives were lost in a quest for peace that never came. Maybe there was never supposed to be peace at all." He rolled over, effectively turning his back to Daniels. "Just let me have my memories."

Daniels started to protest but Reese crossed the room and grabbed his bicep, dragging him into the galley portion of the ship. "Give him a minute, Doofus. He's had a bad day."

"We're running out of time!" Daniels protested. He stomped his feet in frustration.

Reese stared at him. "What are you, two years old? Get a grip. Go check the flux capacitor or the Improbability Drive or the magic hamster beans that manage the time travel thingy and make sure we've got the power to do this right."

"Time travel thingy?" Daniels stared at his sister in exasperation. "You were never very good at physics!"

He stomped into the other room as she called after him. "At least my mucking about never resulted in a temporal wave that destroyed 'All of Time', you Jackass!"

She snuck a quick look at Archer who'd opened one eye to stare at her morosely. "Sorry," she apologized without much worry. "Didn't mean to implicate you in that."

"What's really happening?" Jon asked. His head hurt and his eyes burned and he just wanted to talk with his friends about this. Trip would find some way to make this funny.

"Go see for yourself." She nodded at a window nearby.

Jon rose from his couch and stumbled to the clear pane. Just outside was an empty space approximately ten meters wide. The _Picard_ drifted inside its walls that shimmered like jelly.

Outside the walls chaos reigned.

Bits and pieces of rock floated around them. Clouds of dust hung heavily in the thick vacuum of space and the pale light that filtered through it cast everything in a red haze. Lights flashed nearby, familiar colors in red and green and blue. He realized there were still ships fighting out there. A meteorite hung immobilized in a night sky that was torn and red. It was missing a large chunk of its sphere, like a pie with a giant wedge cut out. The vessel they stood on drifted around the large chunk of rock and as Archer watched he recognized the unmistakable sight of South America's round top and triangular tail peeking out from the gouge. He wasn't looking at some meteor; he was looking at the remains of his own planet.

"We're in Earth's orbit?" He wheezed the words out past a throat suddenly constricted to tightly for the passage of air. She stepped up next to him and offered a plate with a sandwich on it.

"There's not much of Earth left, although it used to be nice," Reese answered quietly. "In this timeline it's been desolated since the twenty third century. It's a dead rock, it won't sustain life anymore." She smiled sadly. "If Rilo hadn't activated the temporal bubble, I'd be nothing more than a memory. As it turns out, memories are all I have left." She turned back to the empty room and swigged from her beer again.

"Memories are all I've ever had," Jon told her, biting reluctantly into the food. As soon as the flavor hit his mouth he realized he was starving and chewed more enthusiastically. "Trip was the only family I had left. My dad died before I became captain. My mom died before I took command of Enterprise. I never got married, never had kids. I never did anything. I watched everyone around me live." He swallowed hard.

"I died when Trip died. He was my best and only friend."

"That's just pitiful." She raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you spend, like, ten years on a ship with about a hundred other people? Don't they matter to you?" Reese exhaled through her nose. "You and Rilo deserve each other," she muttered. "You don't do anything but whine on about the past. This is the future. You can change every day of your life just by making a different choice."

"I wish I had made any choice at all." Jon cringed. "I didn't make any choice. When the time came, I just sat back and watched those crooks kill Trip. I didn't do anything." His chest hurt as though he stood in Sickbay watching Trip wink at him all over again.

"I'm sorry your friend is dead," she uttered softly, resting a hand on his arm. "But this world cannot remain like this. This ship will not survive forever. You have to go back." Jon was already shaking his head in the negative. Reese's voice hardened just slightly. "Is his life worth the lives of the billions of people who died because you can't talk about the future of peace?"

"I just can't do this without him by my side," he whispered. "I'd rather be wiped out of existence than live without him." He studied the woman. "Daniels is your brother, right?"

She nodded ruefully. "My twin actually," she replied.

"What if someone told you that your world could be perfect if you just let your brother die?"

That impish grin stole across her face. "Honey, I'd be the first person in a long line to kick him out an airlock!"

"Would you?" Archer stared into her green eyes, daring her to lie to him. "Would you really?"

She couldn't. "No," she answered. "He's an idiot, but he's all I have." She sounded forlorn.

"Then help me!" He was begging her now.

"You've encountered Daniels before," she reminded him. "You know what problems can arise if you muck around with the established boundaries of the future! Would Trip want to be responsible for the end of everything if this doesn't go right?"

Jon choked on his own words. "I can't..."

"Live without him," she finished. "Yeah, I heard you the first time." Now she sounded annoyed.

They were going to risk the existence of everything for the life of one man. "My brother won't let you do this," she warned Archer.

"Then I'm going to need your help," he stated with determination.

"I thought you might," she smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

**What Price Brotherhood?**

**By Lieuten Keen**

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just needed to fix the finale.

Author's Note: A big hearty thank you to those of you that reviewed. This is my first fiction, and I'm learning how all the bells and whistles work. I hope that you like it.

Follow the white light.

**Chapter 3**:

Something outside blew apart. The concussive force hit the soft bubble and the ship rocked around. Reese stumbled and Archer reached out automatically to steady her. She wound up wrapped in his arms for a brief moment. He held onto to her gently, seeing depths in her eyes as she watched him carefully.

Daniels chose that moment to come back into the room. "We're all charged up, but the incendiary devices are growing more violent. We may only have time for one jump." He eyed the two suspiciously. "Reese, you're supposed to be monitoring the sensor sweeps," he accused.

With a lopsided smile, she pulled gently out of Archer's arms and sauntered across the room to tap at a keyboard, checking the readouts. Daniels glared at his sister, then studied Archer carefully.

"My sister doesn't like all this time travel," he stated carefully. "She had a promising career with my organization, until her fiancé refused to save an orphanage that came under fire when we were observing the past." Daniels smirked humorlessly. "As it turns out, by waiting where he was instead of helping those kids, he sustained a fatal injury when a bomb exploded nearby. Reese was saved with the children, but the temporal mess we had to clean up was extensive."

Archer's green eyes glowered at the shorter man for his insensitivity. "She calls you Rilo?" he finally interjected.

Daniels glared. "Rilo is my given name. I'm not fond of it. I prefer to go by Daniels," he gritted through clenched teeth. He urged the captain to follow him.

"Hmm," Archer hummed as he set off down the corridor with his former steward. "I once knew a dog name Rilo."

Ignoring Daniels' fuming countenance, they entered the room where the time travel machine lay. The room was white and a pedestal stood in the middle. There had been a room just like this in the Suliban helix, ten years ago when Archer interrupted Silik in a conversation with his time-traveling leader. The biggest difference here was all the memorabilia scattered around the outer edges. Archer noticed a life-size mannequin clothed in one of his old uniforms, along with phase pistols, scale model replicas of the NX-01 and an old photograph of him with Trip near the ocean. They both wore scuba equipment and Archer knew that picture had been taken before they'd ever set foot on _Enterprise_. It was the creepiest museum he'd ever seen.

"If you'll just step up there, Captain," Daniels' nodded to the dais.

Archer eyed the remnants of his life curiously before reluctantly setting one foot after another on the raised circle in the middle of the room. "Shouldn't we wait a bit before doing this? I'm not sure I'm ready." He felt like he needed to stall for time. They needed to prepare for his triumphant return. Relief came a moment later.

"Wait!" A cry came through the open door. Reese ran in waving something in her hand.

"What now?" Daniels exhaled in frustration.

"Two things," Reese announced, ticking them off on her fingers. "First, you can't drop him at the podium in the Hall. He was wobbly even as he came down the aisle. We'll need to set him down in the greenroom." Daniels considered that carefully and finally nodded. "If we set him in the greenroom," Reese went on, "he'll need to wear his regular uniform and change into his dress uniform in the dressing room. Otherwise, people will see him."

Rilo Daniels glared at his sister. "You're up to no good, as is often the case," he accused.

"We get one shot, Super Bounce," she made fun of his costume again. "Don't you want to get it right? We may not get another chance."

Daniels agreed reluctantly. He moved closer to the mannequin and pulled open a drawer on the side wall, withdrawing another blue uniform while Reese stood at the power console idly tapping buttons. He handed it to Archer, who eyed it questioningly, wondering how obsessed Daniels really was. He stepped behind the mannequin of himself and dressed quickly.

"Should I be concerned about your brother's infatuation with me?" he called out, feeling goosebumps on his arms.

Reese chuckled. "He's harmless. Mostly," she amended, looking at her twin with a dubious eye as he joined her, muttering and punching buttons to adjust her adjustments. "He's something of a pioneer in the Temporal Enforcement Agency, just as you were a pioneer in deep space travel. He read about you in grade school and felt a certain kinship." She looked hesitantly at the memorabilia spread around the room. "At least he doesn't kill people," she offered helpfully. "Well," she pretended to look troubled, "I don't think he does." Daniels' glared at his sister.

Jon smirked despite his best intentions not to. "That's not reassuring," he snickered. It was entirely wrong to be having a good time while the world went to hell. But knowing he was doing something to make it all better was having an uplifting effect on his spirits.

"You're not supposed to be telling him this stuff!" Daniels burst out. "Too much knowledge can be dangerous!"

"You're living proof of that, brother dear," Reese agreed with saccharine sweetness.

Rilo Daniels glared at his sister some more. "He's dressed. I've adjusted the coordinates to release him in the greenroom just before the speech. Can we just fix this now?"

Reese sighed as though deeply put upon. "Second thing, he's going to need a copy of his speech. It would be stupid to get there and realize he left it on his ship," Reese told her brother with a smarmy glare. The two spent some minutes crossing their eyes and sticking their tongues at each other as though they were ten years old, and Jon found he didn't know whether to be amused or irritated.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat and they broke eye contact.

"We never really outgrew the fourth grade," she grinned pertly at Archer before leading him to the dais and handing over a data disk.

Reese stepped closer to Archer, dressed now in his usual blue coveralls and slipped a data disk in his pocket, patting the material to smooth it over his shoulders.

"Many men talk about the greatness of the future," she whispered. "Few of them have the conviction to change it. If you decide to change it, I'll take care of the rest." Her green eyes seem to pierce him deeply as she stepped down. She walked back to stand next to her brother, and Archer thought how nice it would have been to have spent his life with a woman so determined to take advantage of every moment. He spent his life on a starship and had very little to show for his efforts. At the moment, his ship would be decommissioned, his best friend was dead, and he hadn't had a girlfriend in quite a few years.

Reese stood next to her brother and watched his hands press the buttons to determine the countdown. She caught the captain looking at her curiously, and she smiled in a reassuring way.

Suddenly their ship was rocked with an especially hard blast. All three were knocked to their feet. They scrambled upright. Computers lit up and beeps chirped from several different places. Archer stepped forward to assist them.

"Get back, Jon!" Reese shouted. "They've punctured the bubble outside. We've only got one shot to send you back!" She looked like she was enjoying herself, and Archer wondered how many beers she'd consumed before he got here.

Daniels' turned from the readouts at the far end of the console. "They shouldn't have been able to pierce the bubble!" he wailed.

"It's not a bubble! It's a temporal anomaly held in inter-dimensional flux!" she corrected him with some glee.

Daniels glared at his sister, and Archer worried that they would descend into their child-like antics. "We don't have time for this!" he bellowed.

Reese snickered at the idea that they were running out of time. Her hands twisted around themselves and her nerves had her bouncing up and down. "Now, Rilo! If we don't send him now, we'll never get the chance!" While his back was turned, she poked a couple of buttons underneath flashing lights.

The ship continued to rock on its axis. "Don't call me Rilo!" the balding man beside her argued, his hands a blur on the console in front of him, desperately wishing for more time to make sure the calculations were correct.

Reese met Archer's eyes. "Good luck, Jon!" she smiled slowly. "Have hope."

There was something funny about her smile, but Jon couldn't decipher it. White light appeared all around him. His body felt tingly as though he was being transported, but then the feeling intensified and it was like being torn apart. He roared in his agony, his head tilted back and his eyes tightly closed, not really keen on seeing the things that would happen in the future as he left the future behind.

"You all right, Cap'n?" The familiar Southern drawl pierced his rigid stance at the window.

Tilting his head back into its upright position, and forcing his eyes open, Jonathan Archer found himself in the Captain's Mess Hall on B Deck of the _Enterprise NX-01_. Gradually his teeth unclenched and he caught sight of a reflection in the window. He turned around, panting heavily.

"Yeah, Trip," he answered, praying his voice sounded somewhat normal. "I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "I guess I'm a little nervous about..." There was something he was doing, just a few minutes before. He couldn't remember where he'd been. Patting his pockets, he hoped for some clue to fill him in. He felt the sharp edges of a data disk in his pocket.

"Did you get this out for me?" Trip's eyes didn't miss the bottle of a very fine vintage sitting on the table in front of him.

Archer moved around to sit next to his best friend. "Yeah," he agreed. They would have a little drink now, and reminisce about the future. There was something wrong with the structure of that sentence, he thought. He shook his head. If Trip was here, there was nothing to worry about.

"Do you really think the Alliance will hold?" Trip wondered out loud, sipping slowly at the beverage Jon offered him.

Jon murmured fervent wishes to that end. They chatted a few moments about the delegates that would be there at the conference. He was having trouble focusing on the conversation; he just enjoyed the timber of his companion's familiar voice.

"Written your speech yet?" Trip asked with one eyebrow raised. He knew damn good and well the captain hadn't done it; he always waited until the last damn minute.

Archer reached for the disk in his pocket. "I'm working on it," he hedged, laying the plastic down on the table. There was a small piece of paper wrapped around the disk and Archer slid it off while Trip refilled his glass, reading the soft curves of the letters. _What's it worth to you?_ What did that mean? Archer wondered.

Trip laughed, a hearty familiar laugh, and teased his fried about procrastinating. Archer's head spun away from him. There was something he was supposed to remember. He always remembered before. His brow furrowed. What did he always remember before? He looked up. Trip was still teasing him about this being the biggest day of Archer's life.

"It's the biggest day of our lives," Archer corrected him. The feeling of urgency filled him. He laid his hand on Trip's. "You have meant so much to me. I could never have come this far without you."

Trip stared at the hand resting on his, and a line of worry appeared between his brows. "You're the man they're waiting to see," he reminded Jon lightly. The intimate contact was unexpectedly strange since Jon wasn't a particularly physical guy, but his words of affection were somewhat soothing.

A large boom outside broke the tension that lingered in that one moment.

Archer leaped to his feet and hit a button on the companel. "Archer to the Bridge?" he questioned. The report came in; something had attacked them and they had been boarded.

"I'm on my way!" Archer barked. "Trip, stay here!" He hit the button and started out the door.

"I'm going with you!" Trip argued, following the captain out the door as they raced for a turbo lift to take them to the bridge.

They passed a crewwoman heading the opposite direction. She winked at him as they passed. Archer had one brief moment to wonder about the young woman; he didn't remember anyone having a scar on his ship.

She wasn't from his ship. She was from the future. He remembered everything in that moment. The scream that followed him through the temporal gate had come from Daniels when he realized that the explosion on the _Picard_ had been rigged by his sister, and that while he had been watching Archer, Reese had been altering the time panel. Reese had done what Archer asked her to do, and now it was up to him to decide if interstellar peace was worth the life of his friend.

He could just imagine the tongue lashing she was receiving from her high strung brother right now, for messing in things that were none of her business.

They were suddenly out of time for daydreams as they rounded a corner and encountered the trespassers. Jon knew Reed and the security team would have headed straight for Shran's guest quarters down on G Deck when the intruders had boarded. He and Trip were all alone here. What would he do to save the future? What if this choice made everything worse? Did he really have the right to alter a predetermined destiny and lead them all into an unknown future? He was struck by the image of a broken and dead Earth outside the window of Reese's ship. Anything had to be better than that, he thought.

"Where's Shran?" the leader demanded.

"I'll take you to Shran!" Trip volunteered in a panic, his blue eyes glancing fearfully at the tall man by his side staring calmly at the armed assailants. The captain had been acting weird in the last hour. He didn't want to subject Jon to any more danger than necessary. He turned to Jon, pleading with his eyes to make his commanding officer understand, to make him comply with Trip's sudden idea.

As blue eyes met green, a fist hit a chin. Trip was driven backwards into the bulkhead, slamming his head hard enough to knock him senseless. He slid slowly to the ground into the comfort of blackness.

"I'm sorry," Jon whispered as he bent over the body of his fallen friend. "I can't let you do this."

Archer stood and faced the men with a cocky air of resignation. "I'll take you to Shran. I didn't think he'd be this much trouble. Let me call him here. He'll think the coast is clear." He was certain that he didn't want to live his life if Trip wasn't in it. He had nothing else to lose. It took a special man to change the future. He hoped he was that man.

The marauders seemed to think this idea was okay, although they took precautions as Archer unhooked an energy conduit. "I just need to plug this in up there," he indicated a panel. He wasn't an engineer, but somehow this seemed like the right thing to do. One of the attackers felt around for a weapon behind the panel, but in the end, Archer was able to jam the energy conduit into the sensitive area inside and white light filled the corridor, followed by a larger explosion.

The resulting blast blew them all backward.

The explosion roused the Commander, who struggled weakly to his feet. He ran around the corner and saw the wreckage and screamed, "NO!"


	4. Chapter 4

**What Price Brotherhood?**

**By Lieuten Keen**

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just needed to fix the finale.

Author's Note: A big hearty thank you to those of you that reviewed. I hope that you like it.

Follow the white light.

**Chapter 4**:

There was commotion in Sickbay. Phlox and the medical staff worked quickly, slinging Archer's body onto a gurney. The captain's chest barely moved up and down, his skin covered in burns over most of his body. If it weren't for the patch on his arm, Trip couldn't have known which crewmember it was lying on that bed.

"You're going to be all right!" he shouted, holding his friend's hand, ignoring the pain in his head and his jaw from the blows that knocked him unconscious for a few precious seconds. "Just hang in there! Stay with me!" The captain's hand was clammy and unusually hard. Trip chalked that up to the extensive charring of the human body before him.

Lights and whistles went off. Phlox called for a move to the hyperbaric chamber. Trip was pushed to the side. As the captain was slid inside the narrow tube, his hand raised once and held in the air. One final wave before the female worker with the scar on her face pushed the man into the chamber. Trip feared it was the last time he would see Jonathan alive.

Three days later, Trip stood restlessly in the green room just outside the new auditorium at Starfleet Headquarters, while T'Pol wrestled with the overlarge buttons on his dress uniform.

"Stand still," she rolled her eyes. It was the most irritation she would allow herself to show. Her grief at losing her captain had brought all her emotions to the surface and at the moment, she was just as nervous as the newly promoted Captain Tucker.

"If you had taken the time to write your speech yesterday, you would have had the time to memorize it," she reminded him gently as he thwarted her efforts by trying to read his datapad.

Trip sighed shakily. "This is his speech," he told her. "I found it on a data disk he left in the mess. I just had to rewrite the opening."

His hands stopped her restless fussing. Brown eyes looked up into blue.

"Captain Archer is the reason so many people are here today," he reminded her. "Do you think it's okay that I'm giving the speech that he should saying? I mean, you're a captain too, now? Maybe you should give the speech." He looked at the pretty Vulcan hopefully.

"Starfleet is a human organization. It is appropriate that a human captain provide the speech," she intoned quietly. She had just received transfer orders. She would take command of the _Molcrum_, a Vulcan science vessel, now that her relationship with Captain Tucker made it impossible for her to remain on his ship, under his chain of authority.

From the couch on the other side of the bright room, the Denobulan offered words of comfort. "You served with Captain Archer for many years. You stood at his side and followed his orders. He actively sought your friendship and counsel. Neither of you would be present here today without the other." Phlox's cheerful demeanor set Trip's nerves on edge, but the doctor meant well.

"There is nobody else that Archer would prefer to stand in his stead today," T'Pol assured him.

"He'd prob'ly be happy that I'm doing it instead of him," Trip admitted ruefully. Outside the thunderous applause was taking hold and echoing through the small room.

"I guess it's time to go," Trip sighed heavily. He willed his hands to stop shaking. "Are you going out there?" he asked the Vulcan.

"I will remain here," she told him. He found he was relieved. The idea of trying to talk to all those people while being hyper-aware of one pair of brown eyes had been tying his stomach in knots. She took his hands before he left and pressed her thumbs against several nerve endings in his palms. Drawing a deep breath like she'd taught him, Trip found that his nerves were suddenly gone and that he could breathe much easier.

"Thanks," he replied gratefully. "For everything," he added. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"I am sure that Captain Archer would have said the same thing about you," T'Pol answered.

Trip strode purposefully up the red carpet and down the ramp to the podium.

The long list of formal greetings finally over with, Captain Charles Tucker III stood at the podium and looked out at all the eyes that watched him.

"I stand here today in the shadow of a great man," he began uncertainly. "Without his tireless efforts for peace, none of us would be here today." Due to the solemnity of the occasion, Trip's voice was low and soft and held none of its usual drawl. "He was always looking to the future to bring good things. He believed that the galaxy was full of friends we hadn't met yet. He took to heart the words spoken by Zephraim Cochrane, that we should go boldly forward to explore new worlds and new civilizations." Trip's voice caught slightly in his throat. "He always kept hope alive for a better and brighter future."

"That man is Jonathan Archer," Trip spoke quietly. "He sacrificed so much to achieve peace. He was my friend, and in my opinion, we are all a little worse off in this world without him in it."

Taking a moment to stop the emotion from choking his voice, Trip was surprised when members of the audience began to applaud. Starfleet had sent many rules of conduct to the delegations in attendance, advising all persons to clap their hands together when they heard something they liked. One by one, every pair of hands made their presence known when thunder broke out inside the room that was suddenly too small for all those people.

Trip raised his head a little higher, realizing for the first time that he would always remember his friend. He hoped to honor Jon with this dedication. He wished there was some way that Jon could see him now. He continued with his speech.

"I shouldn't be here." A soft voice cut through the new Captain's reverie. He looked up, still drying his hands on a soft towel in the newest bathrooms in Starfleet's new diplomatic wing. It was the first quiet moment he'd had since he gave what others were already referring to as an 'historic speech.' "

"This is the men's room," he pointed out to the pretty blond who stood there staring at him. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn't place her.

"I know, I just...," she stammered. She started to turn and leave, then turned back again. "I just wanted to meet you. It's just, with all the crowds out there," she waved listlessly over her shoulder, and Trip understood.

It seemed like thousands of people wanted to shake the hand of the number one captain in Starfleet's fledgling program. He was scheduled to take command of a Warp 7 ship next week.

"Captain Charles Tucker," he offered his newly dried hand. "People call me Trip."

She seemed to stifle laughter as she looked at his open hand, then regained herself. "My name is Reese," she smiled as she shook his hand. Her smile faded. "I knew him."

Trip looked startled.

"I knew Jon," she clarified. "He spoke very highly of you. He would be so proud if he could see you now." A flush crept over her cheeks. "He hates speaking in public, but I think you honored him well."

The Southerner remained speechless, his own sense of loss coming to the foreground and threatening to trample over all his good intentions to remain calm.

Reese stepped forward and cupped his cheek with her hand. "He says you were all the family he had, and you exhibited the best of his teachings. He says your humanity and heart gave you warmth that he lacked. He says he never would have got through it all without you. He says it's only fitting to leave the best part of him behind." She studied him appraisingly. "He was right."

She stepped back. Trip felt certain that he should shout at her for intruding on his personal space, for stepping into the men's room, and more than that for slandering his dead friend's name. For all his outrage, he couldn't bring himself to step forward.

"He loves you, you know."

At Trip's panicked face, she snickered rather inelegantly. "I meant he considers you to be a brother. He feels sure that you will always make him proud." Green eyes twinkled at him. She edged a little closer to the door.

"You're a good man, Charles Tucker. You were worth the risk." One last smile and she was gone.

It was only after she left that Trip realized she'd been speaking of Jonathan Archer in the present tense, not as though he had passed out of this world. He threw open the door and stepped into the hall to question her further. There was nobody there. He made his way into the conference room where a crush of people and reporters stepped forward to take his picture after his history-making speech. It was too late. She was nowhere to be found.

Sighing in exasperation, Trip rolled his head back on his neck. In the distance, on the balcony, he saw two figures standing together. One of them was slender and decidedly female. The other was tall and vaguely familiar. The tall man looked out on the swarming crowd and raised a hand in a careful salute. Nobody seemed to notice their appearance, except Trip. In the middle of the jostling crowd and flashes of light, he squinted his eyes to get a better look at the couple.

From outside the sun hit the glass walls up there and the light was suddenly blinding. When the glare subsided, the couple was gone. Trip was swallowed up in the crowd. He shook his head and sternly told himself not to drink any more champagne.

Hours later he made his excuses and his way back to his quarters, thankful for the quiet room. He sat down at his computer. Making himself comfortable by pulling open the top buttons on his uniform, he checked through the long list of names that had signed in to watch the endorsement of a charter that would spread peace in the galaxy. Only one name made him pause.

Doctor Reese Daniels, and guest.

"Daniels," Trip breathed. Hope leaped into his chest. If Daniels was involved in this then there was the possibility that Archer wasn't dead, and that Trip wasn't the worst friend ever for letting the captain die on his watch.

Part of him wanted to jump up and tell the entire tale to T'Pol, even though he was sure he'd get the same speech she always gave Captain Archer. "The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible."

The other part of him remembered that solitary wave from his friend. Trip knew that Archer watched the people around him falling in love and getting married, and going home to their families on leave, and regretted never experiencing that for himself. Today Trip saw Archer leave with a beautiful woman.

Maybe living without him is the price that Trip would have to pay to know that Jonathan Archer had a true family at last.

Of course, assuming that a person believed in time travel at all, it was possible to see his friend again some day. Living the rest of his life with hope in his heart was also a suitable price. It was better than the misery of living without him for the rest of time's travel.

Chuckling to himself, Trip got up. Maybe he'd find Malcolm and they'd share the story over a drink. His smile softened. Maybe he'd find T'Pol and tell her just so she could lecture him for being silly. His hand wrapped around the patch he'd pulled from the shoulder of another severely burned uniform, engraved with the name of his deeply lamented friend. Maybe he'd just keep Archer's secret and hope for the best.

Hope was the best of all things. A man could live forever with hope.

"I haven't thanked you yet for pulling me out of that corridor, have I?" The tall man asked his petite companion as they lingered on the balcony, watching the festivities.

"Nope," she told him.

"I will," he teased, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

"I'll hold my breath," she retorted dryly.

He smirked. "That was a pretty good speech if I do say so myself," he rocked back and forth, pleased with himself.

She grunted at his side, and chuckled. He eyed her carefully.

"That was my speech, wasn't it?" he started to frown.

"Hell no," she assured him cheerfully. "You're a terrible speech writer. I couldn't do that to those poor souls down there." She gestured with her chin. At his stricken look, she grinned. "I kept the same general outline, but remember I've had about nine hundred year's of historians going over that speech with a fine tooth comb. I just worked out a couple of the kinks."

Turning away from the balcony, Reese pressed a button on a handheld device and a bright white light opened a temporal gate behind them. They passed through, holding hands like kids on a first date.

Looking down at their entwined hands with matching bands, he sighed. "I can't believe I made Daniels my brother." They stood on another balcony where a gentle breeze cooled the humid night air. Jon picked up a fruity beverage from a tray and offered one to his new wife.

She giggled. "One super ego deserves another." Green eyes twinkled. "Besides, he's still not talking to us, remember? He's mad that I wouldn't give back his stupid temporal junk." She waved her handheld device before dropping it casually on a low table.

At the pointedly judgmental look of the man beside her, she sighed with exasperation. "It's on my ship! I'd say that qualifies as my property! It will also teach him not to clutter up my room with his weird historical fetishes!"

Archer pondered carefully. "We really should get him another mannequin," he told her. "I think the other is burned beyond repair."

"Not to mention, it's buried in your plot in a cemetery back on Earth," she reminded him.

"How did it pass a genetic scan?" His brow furrowed in concentration, even as he slid an arm around her waist.

"I'll tell you later," she shook her head in amusement. Of all the wonders she could show him, he wanted to know about genetic clones and androids. Go figure.

Turning away from the ocean view below, Archer leaned in closer to the pretty woman.

"So what do you _do_ in the future?" he asked, trying his best 'come hither' stare.

She wondered if there was something in his eye. "At present, I am a history teacher. You're in luck," she added mockingly.

"A history teacher?" he repeated.

"I have advanced degrees in history, temporal mechanics and psychiatry," she told him, sounding bored. "I make a living teaching history to school children. I have lesser degrees in pottery making and hologenerator technology, and in my spare time I like to go scuba diving and rock climbing." She pursed her lips. "Most men find those things out before they put these on," she held up his hand bearing his matching band to his face.

"I don't like to be conventional," he stated loftily, kissing her fingers.

She giggled again. "I don't think we have to worry about that!" She eyed the time travel device. "We can't live in your world because you're dead. We can't live in my world because you have to pass by more than a doorbell to get into most public buildings in the future, and you are something of a genetic anomaly!"

"We've been doing pretty well for the last year," he reminded her. "You've been abusing your understanding of temporal mechanics and knowledge of history."

She grinned without shame, as he'd known she would. "Yes I have!" Her arms slid around his waist. "And you don't have to worry about everyone looking over your shoulder and comparing you to your father. You are your own man." Her voice gentled as she looked up into his face, which despite the extra year on it, looked much younger than it had when she first met him.

"Actually, I'm your man," he told her and her knees grew weak. They kissed deeply.

When they broke apart a few minutes later, Jon grinned. "Two more days and nights of this and then we have to go back and let your brother out of the closet."

"It's going to take more than a key for that," Reese muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Hmm?" Jon looked at her curiously.

"We should really find him someone special," she said louder and clearer with an overly innocent smile.

Jon agreed. "We should. I never thought the future looked so good until I had a chance to share it with you."

"You old softy," she teased. "I'm not sure if that was extremely sappy or terribly romantic."

"Let's go with romantic," he told her, sweeping her into his arms and humming 'Isn't it Romantic?' loudly in her ear. Her quiet laughter answered in the affirmative. "Here's hoping to many more years of this," he whispered in her ear.

Hope was the best of all things. A man could live forever with hope.

They went inside and shut off the lights.


	5. Chapter 5

**What Price Brotherhood?**

**By Lieuten Keen**

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just needed to fix the finale.

**Author's Note:** Huh. I don't even like Archer. How did he wind up with a girl and a happy ending? That can't be right. Let's try another tactic.

**Chapter 5**

Daniels blinks at the bright light as the closet door opens.

"There you are!" A female voice sounds delighted at her find. "At least I can take care of you!"

Lieuten Keen grabs hold of Daniels' collar, wrestles him into the airlock and sends him flying into space with an excess of glee. "Serves you right, you enigmatic creep!"

Reese enters the room, accompanied by Archer. "We may need him later," Reese reminds Keen.

"No, no. You really won't." Keen attempts to reassure the sibling.

Reese steps to the temporal console. "Blue button, green button, red button," she performed the actions while speaking out loud. Daniels reappeared on the platform.

Keen scowls.

Reese pats her on the back. "Be sure you put him back when you're done," she tells her. Reese leaves the room.

Keen glares at Archer. "You still suck," she told him.

Archer shrugs. "I got a girl and a happy ending."

Keen and Archer exchange a variety of rude hand gestures and facial ticks before Archer follows Reese through the door.

"When I'm done here, I'm totally going back to rescue your dog!" Keen shouts after the disappearing man.

Archer half waves without turning around.

Seething with frustration, Keen turns back to her current project. "Where were we?" she growls maliciously.

She wrestles Daniels into the airlock and spaces him.

"Yeah," she thinks to herself. "It's going to be a good day." She presses the sequence of buttons so they might start all over again. Daniels appears on the platform. Keen turns to her current project with malicious glee.

THE END (really)


End file.
